Notes About The Poem
Sara's 'The World is Bleeding contest * June 30, 2025
Blood Stained and Bleeding World
What's happened to world serenity?
It been trampled on and has run amuck,
burned and wounded, ravaged by hate
while people look on as though they're dumbstruck.
The world has lost its identity and obscenities
roll off angry tongues like machine gun fire
from those filled with angst, trepidation and ire.
Humanity is held in the choke hold grasp
of hands of some whose fangs are deadlier than an asp.
And through it all, stygian shadows fall as people die
and the truth becomes nothing more than a lie.
Humans have demanded the costliest toll,
bleeding the land of its once reverent soul.
Gutting forests, despoiling rivers and streams ~
Witless humans with their industrial dreams!
Gluttony rules while the world lies suffering.
There's no buffering zone between good and bad.
How sad the world has become so unstable
while some feast like swine, many others starve
without so much as crumbs of bread on their table.
The love of money may be the root of evil
but greed and power are both willing culprits
as to why the world is in such a state of upheaval.
Has peace become a thing relegated to the past?
Even now when it's said to have been declared,
it never seems to last. It's as if no one cared.
Felicity is too easily cast aside when one snide nation
thinks it has the stratagem to get the upper hand
and another bomb explodes across a ravaged land.
That idiom of 'dog eat dog' has never had more meaning
because some invading countries are always scheming
to gain control of what never belonged them.
It makes the innocent weep when their homes are lost
and they're tossed into war-torn streets like vagabonds.
The world bleeds from lacerations of chaos and mayhem.
And through it all, stygian shadows fall as people die
and the truth becomes nothing more than a lie.
Apartment buildings have been ripped open in war,
leaving them looking like opened egg cartons,
where yesterday people lived in peace and harmony
but missile fire from the power-hungry enemy
has left the lucky ones homeless; the misfortunate dead.
How do they live with such dread hanging over their heads?
Bloodstained streets where loved ones were killed
are constant reminders of all that was lost...
tossed about as if death has absolutely no meaning,
and they must live in fear of another curtain call
when sirens alarm them in the middle of the night
and motherless children cry when another bomb falls.
Erica Jung wrote in 'The End of the World'
that "flowers bleed as if they were hearts,
the hearts ooze a darkness like India ink,
and poets dip their pens in, and they write."
Horrific events have left the world paralyzed in fear
when all we hear is news of conflict and death,
and for some the sense of doom is such
that each breath taken may be their last.
Ignorant humans learned nothing from the past.
Does life hold value to them? No, not much.
With lifeblood, history has always been written,
telling horrid tales of war on foreign soils
where innocent children die while greediness spoils
what once was good throughout the world.
Now, shots are fired, round after round
Cries of pain are heard in echoed refrain,
pitiable bawling, a detestable sound.
It's not only found in death-pit trenches of war
but on city streets where there's blood and gore.
The world is bleeding from severe wounds
and death wants to knock upon every door.
And through it all, stygian shadows fall as people die
and the truth becomes nothing more than a lie.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment